Till Death Do We Part
by trapdoorluver
Summary: Christine and Raoul, newlyweds, move into their brand new home in a perfect neighborhood. They think their life is perfect, but when the new neighbor, Erik, catches Christine's eye, all goes swirling downhill.
1. Meeting Our Future

"Finally, my love, we are here."Raoul said grabbing his new wife's hand. Christine stood staring at her new home. It was a perfect little house, with white shutters and blue paint. Flowers overtook the front yard, and a weeping willow caressed the rooftop. A flower-lined sidewalk lead up to the white front door. Leading them into their happiness. They walked hand in hand up to the door. Christine traced the numbers that were nailed, perfectly, beside the door. A tear came to her eye. She blinked them away and buried her face into Raoul's chest.

"What's the matter?" He said tilting her face up with his fingers.

"I'm just so happy. As a little girl, I dreamed of this. The perfect little blue house, with white shutters. The gold plated numbers, the flower lined sidewalk, the perfect neighborhood," she looked deep into Raoul's Dark blue eyes. "The perfect husband." She buried her face into his chest once more, than pulled away. Raoul smiled and reached for the doorknob. He slowly turned it and swung open the door. This revealed a little room, abandoned by their previous owners. It was empty, with only spider webs as the decor.

"Needs a little work." Christine said, with a slight chuckle in her tone.

"The movers won't be here until morning. Let's get comfortable." Christine walked over to the staircase that was placed on the far wall. She traced the engraved flowers on the staircase banister with her index finger. A smile was permanently set of her face, as she traveled around her new home, examining everything.

A knock came at the door. Raoul slowly edged his way over to the door, Christine went on as if she hadn't heard it. He swung open the door and found a rather tall, blonde woman standing in the doorway.

She greeted him with a smile. "Hello neighbor! I'm Cathy. I live in the yellow house to your right." She stuck out her hand, urging him to shake it. He did, than replied,

"Oh, very nice to meet you. My name is Raoul and this is my lovely wife, Christine." He gestured towards the kitchen where Christine looked up through the arch way. She gave a slight nod and carried on with her searching of the house.

"Where did you all move from?" She ran her hands through her blonde hair.

"Paris." He said blankly.

"Ahh. Beautiful city. Well, I came over to say hello and invite you to the neighborhood concert that is being held tonight, at the park just down the street. It starts at seven. I know its short notice, but I truly hope you will be able to make it." She quickly glanced at her watch, seeming to be in a hurry. She than placed her pale, thin hand on her hip.

"We will try and make it. See you later." He gave a nod in her direction and closed the door. He didn't want to seem un-welcoming, but he wanted to be with his wife. He looked over at her. Her beautiful curly, brown hair fell softly on her breasts. Her eyes, always fixed on the most random things.


	2. Who was that Man?

Her eyes than wandered over to her lover. She swiftly danced her way into his arms. She swooped her arms around his waist.

"Raoul, I love you." She whispered into his ear. She gripped his thin, white shirt in her pale hand.

"I love you too." he whispered back to him. He pulled away from the embrace and placed his hands on Christine's shoulders.

"Now, our neighbor came and invited us to a community concert tonight. I think it would be good if we attended. Is that alright with you?" He looked into her eyes and let his arms fall to his sides.

"Well, I was hoping we could stay here. And enjoy our new home."

"We will have plenty of time to do that. For the rest of our lives to be exact. I think it would be good if we went and met the rest of the neighborhood." Christine let out a great sigh, clapped her hands together, and looked around the room.

"Fine. When does it start?" Her voice had a tint of remorse in it. She pulled back her hair and set it to one side of her neck.

"Seven." he said plainly.

"Seven! Raoul, that is in 20 minutes!" She exclaimed. Raoul nodded, than forced a smile to his face. Christine sighed again, than turned and stormed off into the kitchen.

"I'll wait outside." He yelled to nobody. He turned and walked out the door. He shut the door behind him than sat on the stoop. He fumbled around with his fingers. Than brushed down his hair with his hand. He spotted another neighbor across the street and waved. They waved back and continued on their way.

"Finally." he whispered to himself. He had the perfect life. The perfect house. The perfect neighborhood. The perfect job. And the perfect wife. Nothing could mess this up.

He was snapped out of his daydream by a slamming door behind him. He turned his head and found Christine standing impatiently behind him. She had one strand of curly brown hair in her face and was dressed in a green t-shirt and blue jeans.

"Are you just going to sit and stare all day or are we gonna go to this concert?" She said sarcastically.

With that, Raoul rose up and took her hand. They than walked down the stoop and down their flower-lined sidewalk and onto the street's sidewalk.

Raoul walked staring at his beautiful wife. Christine walked staring straight ahead of her, oblivious to Raoul's gaze.

"So, what is this concert technically?" She said out of nowhere.

"I'm not quite sure. Maybe a local choir or something." They arrived at the park.

"Wow, this is beautiful." Christine said gazing at the luscious trees and flourishing bushes. She stared at the children running frantically after each other, swinging happily on the swings, and crying for their mothers. She turned and found a stage standing at the far end of the park. It had black, plastic chairs lined in front of it. They walked over to them and found a seat to their liking.

"Raoul!" Screamed a voice behind them. Raoul turned and saw Cathy walking his way.

She arrived at the seats and sat down next to them. With her was a shorter, dark-haired man. He was dressed in a white and blue stripped polo shirt and blue jeans.

"This is my husband, Paul." He reached over his wife and shook both Raoul's and Christine's hand.

"Very nice to meet you." Christine said sweetly. He nodded and a man with a microphone appeared on the stage.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming to our community concert! We will be starting in a few moments." The gray-haired man was dressed in all black. He lowered his microphone to his side and walked quickly off the stage.

"So, what brought you out here?" Said Paul once the speech was over.

"Work." Raoul said mechanically.

"Ahh, what is your profession?" Cathy sat gazing at Raoul, anticipating his answer.

"I own the De Changy franchise."

"Ahhh, you work with cars. Not even with cars. You are the pansy who tells everyone else what to do." Cathy slapped her husband on the leg. Laughing off her embarrassment.

"Paul..." She said chuckling.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! The Rancho Community Choir!" Said the same gray-haired man. Gesturing towards the throng of people on stage. He backed away and walked off the stage.

The choir began singing random tunes. All of them were dressed in dark, red, velvet robes. They all blended together as one. But, one stood out. He stood in the back row, dressed the same. A mask set him apart. He wore a white half mask on his face. Mysterious as this may have been, no one seemed to care. They went on clapping and singing along. Laughing and joking around with their neighbors.

The song ended and the gray-haired man appeared again on stage.

"I am pleased to give you, for the first time, a solo, by Mr. Erik Cripton!" Erik, the masked man, stepped forward. Setting himself apart. He than walked up to the gray haired man, nodded to him, and took his microphone.

"Past the point of no return.

The final threshold." The words flew from his mouth and into the ears of his waiting audience. The community sat in awe of his voice. Christine especially was hypnotized by it. It was so strong, masculine, beautiful. Raoul glanced over at his wife. He noticed the effect and shook her a little. She didn't budge.

"Christine." He whispered. She sat, not noticing her husband's plea. He gave her another shake.

"Christine. I think we should leave." She snapped out of the trance and looked over at her worried husband.

"I think we should go." He repeated. Erik continued singing. Furthering his audience's trance.

"Past the point of no return!" He ended with an especially powerful note. The crowd paused, realized he was finished than stood to their feet. They applauded uncontrollably.

"Christine! Listen to me. Let's go!" She continued gazing at Raoul. She than nodded and stood. She turned back to Erik who was bowing to his fans. What had just happened? She didn't understand it. She had no desire to understand it. Who was this man?


	3. Confusion in Paradise

Raoul walked slowly down the wooden stairs, drying his hair off with a white towel. He reached the end of the stair case and looked up. Christine was sitting in the corner of the room, knees pulled in tight to her chest and rocking back and forth. Raoul rushed over and placed his hand on her back.

"Christine! What's the matter?" He gently brushed her hair from her face.

"Nothing." She replied mechanically.

Raoul looked longingly at her, than shrugged it off. He completely sat down and curled a strand of Christine's hair around his rough, fat finger.

"Christine…what happened tonight at the concert?" Her eyes stayed fixed on the floorboard in front of her. She continued to rock back and forth. Not realizing her husband's question. Her mind was lost and she longed to find it. Little did she know, she would never be able to.

"Christine! Did you hear me?" She snapped out of her dream world and into reality. She slowly turned her head to look at Raoul. Her confused eyes gazed into his.

"What happened tonight?" He repeated.

She hesitated but managed to ease a few words from her lips. "I don't know." She replied.

Raoul was becoming angry. "What do you mean, you don't know? You were there. I saw you in a trance. What happened?"

Christine stood in a fit and screamed, "I don't know! Raoul I just don't know!" She than turned and stormed off into the kitchen.

Raoul sat, confused at what just happened. His eyes wandered over to the kitchen. Christine sat in a different corner, eyes fixed on her husband. She looked furious. Raoul looked at his hands that lie in his lap. He traced the crease on his palm. He than looked up again at his wife. She was now gazing out the window.

"Christine, why don't we go to bed?" Christine looked over at him, and nodded in agreement. And with that, Raoul rushed upstairs and appeared moments later with a pile of blankets. He carefully laid them out on the wooden floor of the living room. Than he threw two fluffy, blue and white striped pillows on the ground. Raoul gestured for Christine to come over. Christine nodded, and fearfully stood. She hurriedly walked over to the made-up bed as if something was after her. She continually looked over her shoulder, paranoid.

She slid herself into the blankets and closed her eyes. Raoul gazed at his beautiful wife as he lie next to her. He brushed away a lone strand of hair that fell helplessly in her face. He than carefully placed his arm across her body and closed his eyes.


	4. Dreams Can Bless, Dreams Can Haunt

Chapter 4

"_Christine? Christine? Is that you? Are you in there?" A voice came from the opposite side of the door. Christine carefully walked over and looked out the window. She smiled and opened the door in a hurry_.

"_Come in. We must hurry. We haven't much time to practice." She pulled in the masked man._

"_So I see you are looking forward to our lesson today?" A grin appeared on the man's face._

"_Yes, Erik. You know I always look forward to my voice lessons." She smiled and walked over to the kitchen._

"_Would you like some coffee? Tea? Or anything at all to drink?" She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a tea bag. _

"_Yes, tea would be fine. I believe we should get started. I have brought a new song for you to sing. A new song I believe you are ready for." He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and waved it around mockingly. Christine walked over and took the paper. She walked back over to the kitchen, where she was preparing the tea, and opened up the folded paper. It read, Think of Me. _

"_Wow. This is beautiful. Who is it by?" She said gazing at the song._

"_Umm…a very handsome, and talented composer." She smiled and walked over to him._

"_And who might that be?" She smiled and swung her arms around his waist._

"_Well, let's just say he is in the room with you. And it's not that dog you have." He smiled and returned the embrace._

"_Ahh. I see. Well, I must agree. He is very handsome indeed. And talented." She raised her head and kissed the man on the lips. _

Christine than awoke in a cold sweat. She pushed the covers off of herself and sat up. She looked down at the man that lay beside her. She eased her breathing than laid back down. She closed her eyes and descended back into a dark sleep.


	5. Party Planning

Christine's eyes opened silently, her body awoke without trouble, she eased into consciousness. She turned over, pulling the blankets closer to her face. She stared at her sleeping husband. Gazed at his long, blonde hair, caressing his face. She shifted back onto her back. She stared at the popcorn ceiling, drifting far away. Thinking of her new life. How perfect it would be. A knock at the door broke her day dream. Raoul awoke with a startle, jumping up in a hurry.

"Good Morning, Christine. Sleep well?" She nodded. He than stood and sleepily walked over to the door. He peered out the window to see who it was. A short, stocky man holding a clipboard was impatiently waiting outside the door.

"The movers are here." Raoul sighed and swung the door open. He than forced a smile upon his face and greeted the man.

"Are you Mr. Raoul De Changy?" He held out the clipboard and a pen. Raoul nodded and signed the board.

"Very well, we will start un loading right away." Christine stood and walked over to the door. She placed her arms around Raoul and set her chin upon his shoulder. She looked at the giant, orange moving truck that wait outside their home. Her eyes than began to wander. Looking at the ground, than the street, than across the street.

A door opened at the brick house across from them. She squinted her eyes so that she would be able to see who came out of it. She saw a tall, dark haired man in dress clothes step out the door. He moved with great determination. He locked his door than turned to reveal a mask on his face. Christine lost her breathe. She let go of her husband and back away from the doorway. Raoul turned and looks worriedly at her.

"Christine, are you alright? You look like you've just seen a ghost." He chuckled and walked towards her. She continued watching the man walk down his sidewalk and into a black convertible that sit on the curb. She watched him turn the key and start the engine. She walked back to the doorway and watched him drive away. She was feeling a sort of dread that she didn't go over and talk to him.

Raoul walked over, confused, and placed his arms around her waist. He looked at his wife than watched the men unload their belongings.

"Christine?" He said noticing her daze.

"Yes, Raoul?" She said in a sad tone. She turned and looked him in the eyes. She smiled and placed her hand on his cheek.

"Christine. You have been acting kind of weird lately. Are you alright?" She let her hand fall to her side and continued looking at him. She shook her head and replied,

"I'm fine. Really, I am. Just a little overwhelmed. That's all. No need to worry." She turned away from him and stared out the doorway.

"Raoul, I think we should have a party. A party for our neighbors. We need to get to know them. We don't want to seem rude." She turned and smiled at him. He returned the smile and replied,

"Yes! That is a great idea. When should we have this party? A couple days?"

"Tonight. Tonight should be good." A surprised look appeared on Raoul's face.

"Tonight?! Christine, the movers might not even be done by then! We can't have people in our home while it is undecorated and looks like a jungle!"

Christine laughed and shook her head. She danced over to her husband and placed her arms around his waist.

"We can have it at the park. We can walk around to the houses and invite all of them. We can start this afternoon. We must hurry. There is much to be done. You go to the store and get some food and I will stay here and tend the movers." She gave him a peck on the cheek and swayed off into the kitchen singing. Raoul stood confused, than looked over to his wife.

"Go, Raoul. We can't waist any time!" She gestured for him to go and he did just that.

Christine stood staring at the kitchen. She imagined a table in the corner, her at the stove making dinner, while Raoul played with the kids in the living room. She imagined paintings on the wall, a piano in the corner with a violin leaning helplessly beside it. She imagined her life as it should be.


	6. Meeting the Mask

Chapter 6-Meeting the Mask

"Can I get some help, Christine?" Raoul said, struggling with numerous amounts of grocery bags. Christine let out a slight chuckle and hurried over to assistance him. She took over have the bags and rushed them over to the counter.

"I think we should get started on inviting people now." She pulled out a jug of fruit punch and threw the plastic bag to the side.

"Yeah. That would probably be good. You take the people across the street, while I invite all the people on this side." She nodded in agreement and hurriedly put the groceries away in the cupboard.

She than rushed over to the staircase banister and grabbed her coat. She quickly glanced at Raoul, than walked out the door. Raoul followed closely behind her but than urged on past and began walking towards Cathy's house. She glanced around, confused, than walked across the street. She walked towards the farthest house.

This ended up being a little cottage-style house with giant windows. She skipped up to the door, with smile plastered on her face and gave the door a knock. It swung open almost immediately. A confused hunched over, blonde man appeared in the doorway.

"Hello. My name is Christine De Changy. I am your new neighbor. I would like to invite you to a little party we are having tonight. It starts at 5:00. We will be serving dinner. It will also be at the community park." The plastered smile remained locked on her face.

"Alright. I'll be there. Bye." He looked around, paranoid, than shut the door in her face.

She turned around, shook off her smile, than continued on to the next house.

The next house was blue with white trim. The whole house was covered in some kind of green vine. She held a leaf in her hand as she knocked at the door. The door opened and a blonde, Barbie-like woman stood in the doorway. Christine once again repeated her invite.

"Thank you so much. Me and my children will love to attend. See you than." She talked in an enthusiastic tone. Next was his house. The masked man. The one that haunted her dreams and caught her eye. She slowly edged her way towards the brick house. She timidly walked up the sidewalk and up to the dark wooden door. Her hand mechanically rose up to it and gave a hard knock. Her heart beat uncontrollably. She didn't know why. The door swung open and there he was. He wore black and red boxers and no shirt. His dark, black hair was combed down with one strand falling in his face. Over the mask that covered one side of his face.

"Hello, my name is Christine. I have just moved in across the street." She release from her lips, staring at the man before her. She continued with her invite.

"We are having a party for all our neighbors tonight at the community park. Starts at 5:00. I really hope you can come." She stood, mesmerized by this man. He stood with such confidence, such assurance.

"Thank you. I would love to attend your party. Please, come in, out of the cold and have a cup of tea." He gestured for her to come in. She looked down the street at her husband walking to every single house, inviting their neighbors. She looked back at the man, than stepped inside.

He held out his hand,

"My name is Erik. Nice to meet you, Christine." She returned his hand shake and looked around. He had numerous paintings on the walls. Framed in gold. All his walls were dark red and heavy velvet drapes hung over the windows. Her heart was beating rapidly. She turned and looked back at Erik.

"Would you like some tea, than?" He questioned.

"I should really get going. Lots to plan." She kicked herself in refusing his offer.

A devastated look came over his face.

"Very well, maybe some other time. You are welcome at any time." He smiled and showed her the door. She regrettably walked out the door and back into the street. She continued to all the houses, mechanically inviting them to the party. She than returned home and collapsed on the newly brought-in sofa. She stared at the T.V. that sit in front of her. She stared at her curly, brown hair. Her pale complexion. What had Raoul seen in her? Her mind wandered back over to Erik's house. His walls, his drapes, his paintings. And his face. That wonderful face. Those eyes. She couldn't get them out of her head. She shook away the thought and returned back to reality.


	7. A dark, uncomfortable carride

Raoul eased open the heavy wooden door, trying not to wake his sleeping beauty that lie on the sofa. He carefully closed the door and tip-toed over to gaze at the woman that sleep on the couch. A single strand of curly, chocolate brown hair fall in her face. Raoul gently pulled it back, so he could stare at this beautiful woman. He felt a sort of shock go through his body at the sight of her luscious lips, rosy red cheeks, and small frame. He grazed his hand down her arm, and down to her hand. He grabbed it than whispered in her ear,

"Darling, you should get up. You need to get ready for the party. Christine, wake up." Her eyes slowly flickered open and revealed her dark, endlessly brown eyes. A smile formed on her face. She slowly and carefully sat up, let out a moan, and stretched her arms upward.

"What time is it?" She whispered.

"About 4:00." With that she immediately stood up, in a hurry and rushed up the stairs.

Raoul stood, gazing around at all the boxes. Big, brown, cardboard boxes that read, Dining room, Kitchen, Living room etc. He sat on the sofa, staring into space. His mind than began to wander to the woman upstairs. Her beautiful complexion, her stunning features, and her sparkling personality. He loved everything about her. The way she walked, talked and carried herself. The way she would look at him after he had done something utterly stupid. The way she would stick out her tongue or bite her lip when she concentrated. Everything. He wouldn't be able to survive with out her. Without her faces.

"Are you ready? We need to go and set up everything." Raoul turned. Christine walked slowly down the stairs. She was wearing a brown flowing top that had sequins around the bust line, and blue jeans. She looked stunning. Raoul's heart began to flutter. His insides seemed to dance around carelessly. He nodded than walked over to take her hand.

"Raoul, don't forget the food." She chuckled. She opened the door and held it open while Raoul stumbled with the bags of food. They reached the sidewalk and he set down the food.

"Maybe we should take the car?" Raoul let out a great sigh.

"The moving truck is blocking the way. They went out for lunch or dinner or something." He threw down the remaining food bags.

"Well, we can't get these all the way there. What do you suggest?" Her tone had a hint of sarcasism in it. Raoul glanced around as if he would find an answer for their problem. Just than Erik walked out of his house and down to his car.

"Erik!" Screamed Christine. She immediately blushed. He picked up his head and smiled.

"Yes, Christine?" He began walking towards them, smile plastered on his face.

"Do you think you could give us a lift to the party? The movers are blocking our car. I mean-uhh, you don't have to, you know, if you can't, or even if you don't want to." She fidgeted around, unable to stand still. Erik's grin became bigger at the sign of her uncomfortable request.

"Sure, no problem at all. I was just heading over. Come. Jump in." He pulled out his keys from the pocket of his pure black dress pants and began walking towards his black convertible.

The couple struggled the food bags over to the car and threw them in the trunk. They than joined Erik in the car. Christine sat in the front seat, while Raoul took the back.

"So, where did you two move from?" Erik said as he started the car. He put the car in drive and started down the street.

"Paris." Raoul said confidently.

"Really? I just moved from there a couple years ago." Christine looked over at him and smiled. He returned the look and smiled back. Raoul, now getting a little uncomfortable, shifted in his seat.

"What do you do?" Erik said, breaking the silence.

Raoul straightened his posture and replied,

"I work for a sports car company. The De Changy cars. I own it. What about you?"

Erik pushed on the gas a little more.

"I recently retire from an architectural job to follow my true love. Music." Christine sat silent, still gazing at the man beside her.

"You have an amazing voice. We saw, or rather heard, you at the community concert. Sing, umm, I think Past the Point of No Return? Yes, that was it." Raoul looked at Christine confused.

"Yes. One of my own songs. From an opera I am composing. He looked over a Christine. She was still staring at him. His heart stopped, or at least skipped a beat every time he looked at her. Every time she looked at him, his soul began to soar. He looked back at the road, not to seem as if he were staring at her. She also broke her daze. She looked back at Raoul than at the road. She let a grin form on her face.

"So, Christine. Do you work? Have any hobbies?" Erik tried to break her streak of silence.

"No, I don't work. I sing, sometimes. I also love to play the piano and violin. My father was a violinist." She blushed, quickly glanced at Erik, than back at the road. The car stopped next to a curb. The three stepped out. Raoul began un-loading the food and placing it on picnic tables.

He spotted Cathy and began talking with her.

"So, you sing? I would love to hear you sometime." Erik said, staring into her eyes. She blushed than looked at the ground.

"I haven't sung in a while. I am probably very rusty. Nothing compared to you." She looked up and returned his stare.

"Well, anytime you have time. Please, come over. I would love to hear you." Her soul fluttered with excitement.

She agreed and walked over to join her husband.


	8. Willing to be set free and sing

Chapter 8-Willing to be set free, to sing as a blue bird does.

She sat at an abandoned picnic table, isolated from the party. She stared at a lonely blue bird, singing for no one in particular, in the tree in front of her. The bird sang a song, unknown to anyone but himself. He didn't care who heard, who criticized. He just sang. Oblivious to his surroundings. Soon enough, a few more joined the chorus. One right after the other, they sang. Sang beautifully. Not caring who listened. Christine longed to be like those blue birds. She wanted to be free. Free to sing, no matter who listened.

"What are you doing over here all by your self?" Said a voice next to her. She turned and a smile formed regrettably on her face. She tried to contain herself, but failed. Erik walked over to the table and sat down across from her. Christine replied,

"Just sitting. Glad to get some peace and quite." She looked down at her hands that lie in her lap. Erik stared at her beautiful chocolate brown hair. At the way she smiled, the way she moved, looked longingly at various objects.

"Oh. I see. Am I disturbing you?" A smirk came across his face. Christine looked up and smiled.

"Of course not." Erik's heart just about leaped from his chest. His stomach became fluttered with butterflies and his body became numb. He shakily placed his hands in his lap.

"Well. In that case, can I join you? The party is getting rather boring." He grabbed his own hand. Willing it to halt its shaking.

"Please do. Neighbors are nice and all. But, sometimes they can get rather old. Not you of course, I mean, well, you know what I mean. It's nice to have someone to talk to." She blushed and immediately looked back down at her hands. She began to pick at her chipped, dark red, nail polish. She than placed her hands on the table and looked back at Erik.

"About that singing. I-uhh, would really like to-I mean. Oh, nevermind. I could never." Erik looked confusedly at her. He than put his hand on her's. Her body went numb with his touch. She quickly pulled away, refusing her emotions. Erik quickly placed his hands in his lap and unsurely said,

"Would you like to sing for me? Lessons, perhaps? You seem as if you love singing. Do you not?" Christine looked deep into his dark, green eyes.

"Yes. Yes, I love singing. Well, I used to love singing. Now, it brings back so many bad memories." She played with her fingers than blinked away tears that urged on through her eyes. Erik looked deep into her eyes; she pulled away just as a tear fell.

"Christine, I don't know what happened to you, but, whatever it is. If you ever want to talk about it, I'm here." She nodded and looked up at him.

"And singing is supposed to be emotional. If you never sing again, you will just be holding all those feelings inside. They will be trapped, caged. Set them free, Christine. Set them free." Erik held his hand tight. Then reached out for her hand. She looked at his rough, skeleton like hand. She than timidly reached out for it. Grabbed it, than placed her other on her forehead.

"Thank you. Erik, thank you. I would love to sing for you. Raoul goes back to work tomorrow. I will come then. Is that alright with you?" She pulled back a tear.

"Yes, that would be perfect. I will see you then." Erik than released her hand and stood.

"I should go. I really need to-umm…to go." He turned than walked briskly back to his car. Christine watched as he unlock the door, turn the key and drive away. Her heart seemed as if it would beat right out of her chest. She grabbed at her shirt, willing it to stop. She closed her eyes tight, urging it to stop beating so hard and fast. Just than a hand was placed on her shoulder. She jumped and turned to find Raoul, looking concerned at her.

"Are you alright, Christine?" She nodded and grabbed his hand off her shoulder and held it tight to her breast. He sat next to her and let her hold his hand. Her eyes were fixed on something in the distance. Raoul looked at her, confused. He knew something was wrong, but just couldn't place it. He knew deep in his gut that something was troubling her. Although she said she was fine, he knew she wasn't.

"Christine, why don't we get back to the party? Our guests are waiting." She turned her head slowly to look at him, than nodded and stood. They than walked hand in hand to their waiting guests.


	9. Let emotions run wild

Chapter 9-Let your emotions run wild.

"_Erik, I love you. Love you so much. Please, promise me you won't ever leave me." She gently slid her hands down his side. He looked deep into her, sky blue eyes. He than placed his hand on her silky, pale skin._

"_Christine, you should know. I would never be able to leave you." He leaned forward, willing to kiss her. She turned and his lips met her cheek._

"_Erik. What are we going to do?" She looked at the dark, hardwood floor. Searching the panels for answers. She looked back at her lover, and into his eyes. He returned the gaze and placed his arms around her and whispered into her ear,_

"_Sing, my love. Sing." He pulled away from her and swiftly walked over to the piano at the opposite end of the room. His fingers began to move effortlessly across the keys, producing music unknown by anyone. Too great to explain. Christine dazedly walked over to the source of the sound, almost seeming to be in a trance. Her mouth, dry and cracked, opened. A beautiful sound projected from her throat._

"_Think of Me,_

_Think of Me, Fondly._

_When we've said Good-bye._

_Remember me, once in awhile._

_Please, Promise me_

_You'll Try."_

Christine's eyes shot open. Sweat streamed down her forehead. She wiped away the river, and sat up. She stared around at the darkness that flooded the room. She than pushed down the silk covers that lie helplessly across her body. She swung her legs so they hung over the side of the bed. She placed her fingers on her temples and rubbed them. Trying to get the dream from her head. It refused to leave. It would stay, haunt her. She stood and hurriedly walked to the bathroom. She stared at her long, curly hair that fell defenseless on her shoulder. She turned the crystal knob, and water poured from the faucet. She quickly placed her hands under the waterfall. She splashed water on her face, than looked up at her reflection. She turned the knob once more, to cut of the water supply.

"What are you doing up?" Came a husky voice from behind her. She turned around to face the doorway. Raoul stood, rubbing his eyes.

"Bad dream." She shrugged.

"Did I wake you?" She walked over and planted a kiss on her husband's cheek.

"No. I begin work today, remember." He once again rubbed his eyes and walked past her, to the sink. He began brushing his teeth.

"Oh. Well, I am going to go back to bed. Or something, I don't know. Here, give me a kiss, just in case I fall asleep." She gestured for him to come over to her. He than placed a toothpaste kiss on her cheek and walked back to the mirror. She wiped her cheek and rushed back to bed.

**Dear Journal,**

**Who is this woman? Why is she here? Why does she invade my mind? My body? Why does she try and possess me? Why does she inspire me? Ahh…Christine. Just the sound of her sweet name sends my soul to heaven. She could never love me. Love me the way I love her. For I have spent merely minutes with her and I already know. Knew, since the moment I saw her walk up her flower-lined sidewalk with her husband. She was so happy, swaying with the breeze. Her hair flying from the left to the right. Her hand in her husband's. Kissing each other. Why am I too late? Too late to love her. This forbidden love is getting to me. I must not commit any more sins. For just living is a sin for me. Some are even convinced I am the devil himself. I shall prove them wrong. I will not give in to her. I will not plead for her to love me. For her to love me so deeply. For her to leave her husband and move far, far away with me. I will not try and sweep her off her feet. I will only be her teacher. I will teach her to sing. She will never know. Never know my true feelings. I fear, that when she is in my home, in my care, I will fold. I will fall at her delicate feet. I fear that I would do anything for her love. I would gladly do anything. I must be careful. **

**After the party today, I came home completely shaken from our conversation. I swung open the door and fell helplessly on the floor. My body was numb with nervousness. I stood, knees shaking and walked slowly over to the piano. I sat, stared at the notes that lie all over. I grabbed them and threw them angrily on the floor. I ripped them, shredded them. They were all about her. Her dark hair, her sky eyes, her silky touch. I couldn't bare it anymore. What was I to do? I continued to shred up the tiny pieces of paper, until I was unable to read even one, painful word.**

**After my episode was finished, I sat and stared at the confetti that lie all across the floor. I than turned back to the piano, traced the keys with my finger, and dropped my head down towards my lap. I looked up, staring sadly at the wall before me. I than, lowered my fingers slowly towards the keys. Stared longingly at them than pressed one of them down. Than, one right after the other, a song began to form. I continued, until my mind became completely lost. Now, as I sit here, writing all this down, I cannot remember what the song was about, or what possessed me to write it. All I know is that it is about her. About how my emotions will remain hidden, and we must say good bye. I will only think of her in my dreams, we will only be together in my dreams. This song, this emotion filled piece, is called, "Think of Me". She shall sing it when she is ready. When she needs it. When I need it. I will keep it in my breast pocket. I will never remove it. Only when the time is right.**

**With best regards,**

**Erik.**


	10. Hidden emotions

The alarm went off with a piercing buzz. Christine abruptly awoke and glanced over at the black clock beside her. She threw her arm over and turned it off. She let out a moan, stretched and sat up. She let out a great sigh. Today was the day she would sing for Erik. Her chest began to hurt once more and she grabbed at it. She than stood timidly and walked over to a box labeled: BEDROOM CLOTHES. She quickly opened the box and pulled out a slim, white t-shirt and jeans. She hurriedly put them on and walked downstairs.

She glanced at the clock again. It read 12:30. Why had she slept so late? She danced over to the pantry and pulled out a pop tart. She opened the package and began to munch on the strawberry flavored pastry.

What would she sing for him? She thought to herself. What if she isn't good enough? What if he laughs? She began to feel sick, her stomach queasy. She set down the pastry and walked over to a mirror that leaned, alone, on the far wall. She fixed her hair and straightened up her clothes. She grabbed her stomach and collapsed to the floor. She sat, refusing to give in to the pain.

After a few moments, she gathered herself and stood. She ran upstairs and brushed her teeth than slowly walked back downstairs. She knew she would have to go over to his house. She glanced out the window. Why had she kept dreaming about him? Why is she having all these forbidden dreams? She shook the thought from her head and walked out the door. She walked down the flower-lined sidewalk and out into the street.

What was she doing? Surely Raoul wouldn't approve. Was this cheating? Was this unfaithful? No, certainly not. She was not having an affair. She was just singing for her neighbor, her friend. She walked over to his yard and up his sidewalk. She stopped at the door, stopped her hand in its tracks. She stood, hand almost to the door, than she released her hand and knocked.

The dark, mahogany door swung open and revealed Erik. He was wearing dark, red, silk pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt.

"Hi. Did I come too early?" She bit her lip and looked down at her feet. Erik scratched his head and replied,

"Certainly not. Come in." He gestured for her to enter. Now, his body was becoming numb. Just the sight of her elegant movement sent his body on a rollercoaster ride.

Christine glanced around at he velvet drapes and dark walls. She timidly stood in the middle of the room.

"I will go change. Feel free to sit down. I will be only a minute." Erik escaped into his room. Away from this woman. This woman who caused him so much pain, so much happiness.

Christine walked slowly over to the piano, the same piano she saw in her dream. What did this mean? She thought to herself. She traced the keys with her frail finger. The sweet music she heard in her dream, was it real? Would it happen? She knew she would not be able to control herself any longer. Her dreams would only get worse. Why did she dream about him? She barely knew him.

"Okay, ready?" she abruptly turned and saw Erik standing, buttoning up his shirt in the doorway. She glanced past him and into the room behind him. It was filled with paintings, drawings, and scores were scattered throughout the room.

"Yes. Please, forgive me. I haven't sung in a long time." Erik smiled and walked over to the piano. He sat down and looked up at her.

"What song would you like to start with?" She fidgeted around, than shrugged.

"Well, I did write this song. Right after-well, I think it is good. Maybe-"Her words became knotted. She looked down at Erik, and into his eyes. He looked back than broke the gaze and returned his stare at the keys.

"Well, let me hear it. I will join in with the piano when I know the beat." Christine released her hands to her side and opened her mouth.

"Wishing you were somehow here again.

Wishing you were somehow near.

Dreaming of you,

Helped me to do,

All that I dreamed I could.'

Erik's heart leaped out of his chest. He grabbed his breast, than blinked away the pain. Was this his angel? Was she meant to sing for him? It seemed like this was the one thing missing from his life. This woman was the one piece missing from the puzzle. He released his hands to the keys and imitated the song. Christine continued and looked down at him.

His head was swaying to and fro with the beat, his eyes were closed and his fingers were dancing across the keys. She stared at his figure, his muscular arms, and his arched back. The way he hunched over his piano, completely absorbed in the music. Why did she long to touch him? Hug him? Kiss him?


	11. Obsticles Hide Our Love

"Past the point of no return,

No going back now,

Our passion play has now,

At last begun…"

Her voice echoed through the dark room, and set shivers up Erik's spine. His fingers danced merrily across the keys, punching the right notes. His eyes closed, he wanted to better hear her voice. It was beautiful, he thought to himself.

The song abruptly ended. He looked up at the beautiful angel that stood beside him. He opened his mouth and said,

"Beautiful. Positively beautiful. But, it seems it is missing something." He raised his hand to scratch his head. Moments passed with silence flooding the room. Christine's heart began to pound loudly in her ears. She shook away the sound and sat down next to her tutor. He glanced toward her than back at the keys. His mind became lost, as his heart quickly beat because of her presence next to him. He felt her sweet, body heat illuminate off of her and onto him, warming his senses, and his heart.

"Inspiration and soul. Yes, those are the components you need." Christine looked over at Erik. His dark, black hair started to shimmer as slight rays of sunshine beamed through the dark, red, velvet curtains. His eyes glistened as he looked longingly into his rough, white hands. His body was determined and aware, though his mind raced like a wild mustang.

He looked back at her startled at what he had just said.

"No, it's not an insult. I mean you need a reason to sing. A purpose. You of course have soul. You just need to channel that soul into your song. Please forgive me for my harsh words." Christine smiled and nodded. She reached her hand toward him. She laughed a little and gently rubbed her hand against his back.

"Christine…" Erik pulled away. Her touch burned him, coursed into his blood, scorching everything in its path. It burned deep into his soul, made him long for something that could never be. Somehow it seemed he was doing wrong.

Christine pulled her hand away and gathered it at her breast. She held it tight in her other hand as if she was hurt by his movement. Her heart ached.

"Maybe I do need soul. It is alright. What purpose do I have to sing, really?" She sighed and looked down at her hand.

"What possessed you to sing before?" Erik said shifting his weight away from her.

"My-"She drew in a deep breathe. Was it really necessary to speak of this? To tell a stranger her darkest secrets?

"My father." She blinked away a tear, glanced over at Erik, than back at her hand, than continued.

"Since my father died, my voice has changed. There is no reason to sing. No desire to. He was an amazing violinist. We used to play together. Just as we are doing now." She glanced up at Erik. He turned away from her. Images of her father and her, in the dark confinements of his room flashed into her mind.

"_Father, please no more." Christine pleaded. Her childish form jerked at her father's emotions, but he stood strong._

"_Don't you want to be a famous singer, Christine?" His voice remained firm. Christine felt inferior to her father, unable to refuse him. His dark hair, his rough skin, everything about him amazed her. _

"_Yes, of course father." Her voice was weak, and in her tone you could tell she was merely a child._

"_Very well." He nodded and raised the violin to his shoulder, lowered the bow and began playing. _

"Just because he is gone doesn't mean he can't still be your inspiration." He turned back to her and took her hand. His chest ached with pain. Her soft, silky touch was getting to him. He ignored the pain, refused to let it win.

Christine released her hand into his. A tear came to her eye. She let it flow down her cheek and across her lips. Erik reached up and smeared them away. Christine flinched when his rough hands touched her delicate skin. He reminded her of her father, with his rough skin.

She continued to let the tears flow. Soon they would be drowning in them. The ocean of tears would consume their judgment. They would release all fears, release all thought and leave reality.

Christine looked down at their two hands intertwined. Erik stared at the curls that fell delicately in her face. He brushed them away and lifted Christine's head to face his. As her heart fluttered with excitement, she let her chin rest in his grasp.

"Christine, I know you are a beautiful singer. Find your inspiration, only than can you live in the wonderful world of music. When you find it, come join me. Come join me in this world which you know, is the best one of all." She nodded than looked down at the tears that fell helplessly on their hands. Erik did the same and than acknowledged his beating heart. It was pounding in his ears, making him mad with pain. His whole body was numb, and his head was spinning. His organs seemed to want to fly away and his stomach was fluttering around inside his body.

Christine was numb. Unable to tell right from wrong. She finally let her emotions out. Let this man comfort her. She grasped his hand tighter as a tear fell. Her mind raced with thoughts of her father, of her marriage, of Erik. She was so confused. What was she to do now? She released his hand and stood. Timidly she announced,

"I should really get back. I have a lot of unpacking to do. Thank you, Erik. For everything." She turned and began walking towards the door. She stopped abruptly as she heard Erik's voice behind her.

"Will you ever come back?" His voice had pity in it. It pleaded for her agreement. For her to stay. She turned back to him.

"Of course I will. You have done so much for me. How could I not? Tomorrow?" She smiled and another helpless tear fell from her eye. Erik nodded and she walked out the door.


	12. Never Shall I Refuse This Emotion

Chapter 12-Never Shall I Refuse This Emotion

Christine sat in her living room, trapped in a forest of brown, cardboard boxes. She stared mindlessly at the names written in thick, black marker. She carefully opened the boxes and decorated the room with various pots, lamps, and tables. She placed her fingers on her chin and tilted her head to the left as she gazed at the plump, white lamp that sit atop a dark, wooden end table.

"Perfect." She whispered to herself.

"What is?" Said a voice in front of her. She immediately looked up and found Raoul standing in front of her. A smile came to her delicate face and she let out a chuckle.

"Everything." She said. He placed his arms around her waist and looked down at his beautiful bride. He pecked her on the lips than released her.

"What did you do today?" He said walking around looking at the boxes that lie all about the room. Her breathe fell silent, her heart stopped, and her eyes opened wide. Should she tell him? Would he be mad? She opened her dry, cracked lips.

"Nothing-I mean. I just unpacked things. Sat around." She lied. She knew this was the beginning. This was the beginning of the nightmare. The nightmare that would haunt her for the rest of her life. She had no clue why she lied. No idea why she refused to tell Raoul of today's events. She did nothing wrong. Or did she?

**Dear Journal,**

**Once more I come to you. Come to you to express my feelings that just won't seem to go away. These feelings haunt my every thought, every movement. Each morning I wake thinking of her. Of her sweet, luscious lips, her hair that reminds me of intoxicating chocolate, and the innocence that lies deep within her voice. **

**She came today. She came and sang for me. Or more for her father. See, she told me of her father's death and how it affected her. A tear came to her eye, and she sang a song she wrote for him. For him… No, not for me. For him. He is her inspiration, not me. **

**Her voice, her oh, so beautiful voice haunts me to this very moment. It echoed through my mind, sending notes fluttering in my head. She left me begging for more. My hunger still has not been met. She has not satisfied me. Nor shall she ever. Although her voice is as beautiful as a warm, summer sunset, it is hollow. It is empty. There is no soul behind it. No speck of human behind her intoxicating voice. I will help her. Help her find what she needs. Help her find her inspiration. Her father is dead, gone to this world. Her old inspiration has abandoned her. Now, she will find a new one. She needs to. If she fails, she will fail her voice. All the dreams I have conjured up in my mind will diminish. Never to return. **

**She promised to return after I begged her to. What was I to do? She was frightened. If I had not begged, she would have never came back. The very thought of staying with me has got her shaken and scared. **

**When she touched me, it sent chills up my spine. Her touch burned me, burned into my heart. It scared me, yet, left me wanting more. Left me urging for more touch. I cowered away from this unwanted, new emotion.**

**What is left for me to do? Should I run and hide? Refuse her? Refuse the sweet happiness she brings into my life? No, I have tried that and failed. What lies before me is unknown. My fate, undecided. All there is left to do is sit and wait. Sit and wait for what destiny throws into my lap.**

Raoul slowly covered his sleeping beauty with the red, silk bedspread. He kissed her forehead and drew back a strand of hair that dangled in her face. He slowly walked over to a dark, wooden desk that sit in the corner. He sat and placed his face in his palms.

Something was the matter with her. What was it? Was she unhappy? His heart thumped loudly in his head. He shook away the sound and let his hands fall to the desk. He turned back and gazed at his lover. Her sleeping innocence created a shock of pleasure through his body. He turned away and stared at the plain, white wall in front of him.

She was not happy. He had given her everything, but it was not enough. What more could she want? He gave her love, security, everything her heart desired. Did she not love him? Was he doing something wrong?

He walked over to her and took her hand.

"I promise, I will do whatever it takes to make you happy." He whispered to her. Knowing she did not hear him, he let go of her hand and walked over to his side of the bed.

He pulled back the covers and settled in. He slowly closed his eyelids and descended into a dark, heavy sleep.


	13. Love Takes a Deadly Turn

Chapter 13- Love Takes a Deadly Turn

"_Erik, never leave me. Never get mad. Please, don't get mad." Christine sat on her knees begging before her new found lover. Erik stood, dumbfounded, staring at the pleading woman before him. _

"_Christine, you said you would leave him. Come with me. You promised me." He shook his head and turned away from her. She stood and pulled his shoulder toward her so she could face him._

"_I will. I told you, I will. I am just- well, I'm a bit confused." _

"_Confused? Confused! You say you love me, and you're confused! Christine, love is all you need. If you don't love me, just say so. I don't need this torture. God knows I've been through enough of that in my life!" He spat viciously at her. Tears started to flow from her eyes; she wiped them away with her pale finger and replied,_

"_Erik. What does your face look like?" She whispered. Erik, startled, looked back at her. _

"_You shall never see what lies behind this mask. For, what lie beneath it is not me. It is not me. Christine, you must understand. The face which lies behind this mask is a monster, not me. I'm not a monster." He sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders._

"_You must never ask that again. You hear me?" Christine stood, horrified. Erik shook her and continued,_

"_You understand?!" He screamed. She shook her head in understanding._

Her eyes shot open, sweat trickled down her forehead, stopping at her eyebrows. She pulled back the silky, red bedspread and sat up. Her heart was racing. She grabbed at her breast. The heart beat became louder, piercing through her ears. The beating became louder and louder until she was unable to bare it. She stood and hurriedly walked to the bathroom. She swung open the medicine cabinet door and searched around frantically for some pain medicine. She found it and opened the bottle in a hurry. She poured out the three small, orange tablets and stuck them in her mouth. She swallowed them and walked back to her room.

She sat on the edge of her king sized bed, debating with herself. Questioning all that she thought was certain. All that she believed made her happy. What were these dreams about? Why did they haunt her every night? Did she love him? Impossible. She barely knew him, yet he haunted her every thought. He possessed her every movement. Seized her mind every minute of her existence.

She shook her head, as if it would diminish the thought and stood timidly. She gently walked over to her closet and changed her clothes. She brushed her teeth than her hair, she than walked downstairs. She began walking towards the door, almost mechanically, than stopped just before she reached it. She felt the sweet sensation already. The addictive feeling she had when she was with him. The intoxicating feeling she felt when he looked at her. She continued on through the door and across the street to his house. She walked up the paved sidewalk and up to his door. She knocked and the door swung open.

Erik stood, with a painful look on his face. He gestured for her to come in and she did just that. The two stood silent for what seemed like an eternity, before Christine spoke up.

"Raoul is working overtime today." Erik faced her, staring into her sky blue eyes.

"And…" He said hanging on her every word.

"And…that means, I can stay longer. I can sing longer." She ended her sentence with a sigh.

"Very well, come, sit. Today, I feel I will join in the singing." He sat down before the piano and Christine slowly walked over to join him.

He would be singing today. Her heart started beating nervously. What was her voice in comparison to his? She began to doubt her talent. She rubbed her temples painfully. Erik noticed her uncomfortable feeling and said,

"No need to worry, you are more talented than you realize." With that he pulled out a sheet of music and sat it before him. Christine glanced over at it. The title read: Angel of Music.

"What is this piece? I have never heard or seen it before." Erik turned to her, than glanced back at the music.

"It's one of my own. If you don't like it-"Christine placed one finger to his mouth and cut off his words with her own.

"Nonsense. Let's get started." Erik nodded and danced his fingers across the keys. His head began to sway with the beat.

"Insolent Boy!

This slave of Fashion.

Basking in your glory!

Ignorant fool!

This brave young suitor!

Sharing in my triumph!"

His voice was strong and certain. It echoed through Christine's head and commanded that she listen. Demanded her ears to open up and that her heart feel the music. Her mind slowly became numb.

"Angel, I hear you speak,

I listen.

Stay by my side,

Guide me.

Angel,

My soul was weak,

Forgive me.

Enter at last,

Master."

Erik stopped playing and looked straight into Christine's eyes. He reached out for her hand and grasped it. She let him take it willingly. She stared back at him, trance-like.

"Flattering Child,

You shall know me,

See why in shadow I hide

Look at your face in the mirror,

I am there inside!"

Christine moved her hands up Erik's shoulders and stopped at his face. She caressed his cheek than dropped her hand. She rested it on his rough hand and let her body relax.

"Angel of music,

Guide and Guardian

Grant to me your glory!

Angel of music,

Hide no longer

Come to me strange angel!"

The singing stopped, Erik slowly reached his rough hands up to Christine's face. He moved his fingers compassionately up and down, caressing her cheek. He than slowly inched his lips toward her's. Christine did the same. Her mind kept telling her to stop, but she urged on, letting her body take hold of her actions. She felt a shock go through her groin. She ignored it and continued. Erik stopped, stared into her eyes than plunged at her lips, passionately kissing her. She gave back. Erik buried his hand in the back of her head, letting his hand become tangled in her chocolate brown hair. Not letting any emotions stand in her path, she pushed harder against his lips. Erik sat, letting her passionately express herself. She pulled away, realizing what she had just done. She looked longingly into Erik's eyes.

"What have we done?" She whispered. Erik looked back, confused. He grasped her hand tighter, knowing what was about to happen.

"I don't know. Christine, I'm sor-"Christine hushed him.

"Don't be sorry. Please, don't be. We must never speak of this again. You hear me? Never." Erik nodded and stood. He walked over to the kitchen.

"Will you still come over for lessons?" Christine sat, still horrified at her actions.

"I don't think it's a good idea." A deep, sadness overtook Erik's face. It drug him down, his legs became weak. He rushed for the nearest chair. He sat, staring longingly at Christine.

"Why? Christine, don't punish yourself. Don't punish me. We both know what we felt. It's real, Christine. Don't push it away. Hold it, embrace it." He said passionately.

"Erik, I'm married. I must go. Never speak of this again. Good-bye." She stood and walked towards the door. A hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.

"Don't leave me. I need you. Please, I beg you. Don't do this to me." He pleaded. His eyes were starting to puddle with tears. Christine gazed at him, deep into his dark, green eyes. She let a tear drop to the floor.

"Erik…"She whispered.

"I can't. I just can't." She shook loose and walked out the door.


	14. Lovely Bad Memories

Chapter 14- Lovely Happenings Can Haunt and Become Bad Memories

"I, Christine Daae, take you Raoul De Changy, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do we part." The words echoed through her head. They teased her, repeating themselves endless times.

She timidly sat on her white leather couch, tears falling from her eyes, and her face buried in her palms. She lied, she cheated. Two things she thought she would never do. She kissed him, kissed him willingly. She did not refuse him, she did not fight him._ She let the fantasy unwind. _What had she done? Her mind raced with various thoughts of the morning that she very much dreaded. The kiss replayed over and over in her mind.

She glanced over to the end table that sat next to her. A wedding picture of her and Raoul sat there, paining her. She reached over and shakily picked it up. A forlorn tear fell on the picture, smearing the face of her husband. More tears fell loyally behind. Eventually, the whole picture was smeared, ruined. Just as her life now was.

She threw down the picture, cowering away. She curled up on the couch, fearfully. The vows still racing through her head, she gained the strength to race away from the picture. She hastily ran up to her room, and slammed the door behind her. She was acting childish, she knew, but she couldn't help it. She stood behind the door, as if someone would burst through it. She slid down the door and collapsed to her knees. She reluctantly and fearfully lowered her head to look at her trembling hands. Her face than fell limp into her palms.

Erik stood, still staring at the wooden door his new found love slammed in his face. Why had he kissed her? He promised himself and now betrayed his soul, his promise. It was all over. His hands began shaking uncontrollably, his stomach became upset, and his head throbbed. Her voice echoed through his mind, grasping his brain and refusing to let go. The angelic voice refused to leave him alone, it haunted him.

He, after realizing his gaze at the closed door, turned slowly, sorrowfully, and walked over to his piano. He glanced at the seat, than looked towards the ceiling to blink away his forbidden tears. With his trembling hands he reached towards the sheet music that lye, untouched, on the piano. He gently placed them in a folder next to the piano and touched his breast pocket, where his love-filled song lye.

He carefully slid his fingers into the pocket, felt around, and pulled out the crumbled piece of paper. His heart throbbed with pain, as he shakily opened the note. He gazed at each word, each syllable, feeling a different emotion with every letter. As he read through it he found himself smiling. When the song was finished, his frown returned, and he stared at the paper. His head echoed the voice of his lover. She taunted him, teased him. His frustration grew uncontrollably.

"Stop! Please, leave me alone!" He screamed at himself. He took the paper, ripped it up and threw it in the nearest trash can.


	15. Thoughts of Deception

Chapter 15-Thoughts of Deception

"Christine, Oh my god! What happened? Christine!" Raoul stood in horror as he found his love cowering on the floor. Her hands were wrapped around her knees and she was rocking back and forth. Her eyes had dark circles under them and her face had a plastered look of horror. His heart stopped as she painfully looked upward. She had tears streaming down her face. They dispersed as they gently touched her lips. She immediately stood, brushed herself off, and spoke through dry, crusty lips.

"Nothing, I'm alright." She shook her head and looked down at her feet. She than hid her tear smeared face in her shirt. She brushed away the wet droplets and flipped back her hair. Her heart was thumping and her legs were weak. She found the nearest chair and sat down.

"Christine, something is the matter. Please tell me, what happened that has you so flustered?" He walked over and compassionately placed his arms around her shoulder. She stood and swooped him into an embrace.

"Nothing. I told you, nothing is the matter." Each lie she told was a stab in her side. Each word she unfaithfully spoke brought her closer to death. She gripped his shirt and pulled him tighter to her body. Raoul, confused, continued on with the questioning.

"You know, Christine, you can tell me anything. What is the matter?" Christine shook her head and buried her face into his chest. She found great warmth in his arms. It seemed as if her troubles scurried away when she lye limp in his embrace.

"Nothing. Raoul, please, don't ask me again. If you love me, you won't ask anymore." She let him go and rushed over to the chair. She sat, with her legs crossed and stared at the carpet.

"You know I love you. But, Christine, we are married now. No secrets. Please, Christine tell me what is the matter." He pleaded for her story with his soft, blue eyes. He begged her to speak with his long, thin body. She refused and continued staring at the cream-colored carpet.

Raoul shrugged and said in a sad tone,

"Fine. You don't have to tell me. I will find out sooner or later." He let a smile form on his face. Christine's heart stopped and she forced a smile upon her face. She let out an artificial laugh and attempted to change the subject.

"How was work?" She uncrossed her legs and adjusted her posture.

Raoul sat on the bed and started to take off his shoes. He let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Let's just say, I'm glad it's over." He smiled and lay down on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Oh? Trouble at the office?" She smirked.

"No, just lots of drama. Stacy, my secretary quit. Saying she didn't get paid enough to put up with us 'low down varmints.' Seriously, Christine. You think she could have come up with a better ending line than that." He let out a laugh and sat up. He continued,

"Enough about my awful day. How was yours? Get any unpacking done?" Christine's eyes began to swell and tears came dangerously close to falling. She blinked and they disappeared.

"My day?" She managed to choke out. She gulped and continued,

"Well. I didn't get that much done. As you can see, I unpacked some. I just, umm, sat outside. Doing nothing in particular." The stabbing lies continued. She grabbed her side than casually took her hand away and placed it on her knee.

"Ahh. I see. Sounds…fun." His voice was long and drawn out. He knew something was up. His mind raced. His birthday was coming up soon. Thoughts of a party flooded his head. That still didn't explain her crying. He snapped back to reality and continued on about his day. He than relaxed and fell asleep.

Christine sat in the red, leather chair and stared mindlessly at her sleeping husband. Her mind wandered about the room, around the house and into her mysterious neighbor's home. She thought of how she deceived her husband. How she under-minded him. What had come over her? Why had she done it? While these questions raced around like rats in her mind, she couldn't help thinking about the kiss. And how she longed for another sweet, intoxicating kiss from that man to escape her from reality and all its horrors.


	16. Can dreams tell us about ourselves?

Chapter 16-Can Dreams Tell Us More About Ourselves Than We Know?

_Erik moved slowly closer and closer to the hidden window. On the opposite side Christine hurriedly prepared dinner for her three waiting guests. She slopped butter covered chicken breasts haphazardly on white, glossy plates. Erik let a smile escape onto his face and hurried to the back door which entered into the kitchen. His heart jumped with excitement of seeing his secret lover once again. Something about having her in his arms made his mind soar and his legs shake with weakness. He knocked quietly on the door. A piece of chipped white paint fell to the ground. Christine's heart stopped at the sound and she quickly turned to face the door._

"_Christine, is everything alright? Do you need some help?" Raoul's voice was heard from the other room. Laughter of the two waiting guests echoed throughout the room. _

"_No. Everything is alright. Just waiting on the rolls. I will be out soon." Her stomach was beginning to churn as she peeked around the corner at her company. She than slowly walked toward the door and peeked behind the curtains. Her body froze at the sight of Erik waiting patiently on the other side. He stood, hands intertwined and a vacant stare on his face. She swung open the door and pushed him out just as he began to walk through the doorway._

"_What are you doing here?" whispered Christine._

"_Well, hello to you too, love." He chuckled._

"_Erik, you know Raoul is home. He is already suspicious. What is he to think if he finds you sneaking around into our backyard and up to our backdoor?" She stared into his green eyes, and pleaded for him to leave._

"_You must go. Please, Erik, if you love me as you say you do. Go." She pushed him further into the back yard, away from the door._

"_Christine, I am tired of sharing you. You say you love me, but you continue to pretend you love him. Please, I can't go on like this." He returned Christine's gaze and than let out a grave sigh._

"_Fine. I will leave." He turned and walked away._

Christine awoke; sweat streaming down her forehead and her body tense with confusion. Why did these dreams continue to haunt her? _'Erik, if you love me as you say you do. Go.' _She closed her eyes and willed the image from her mind. It didn't work, the dream replayed over and over in her mind. Her pushing Erik further from the door which contained her perfect life.

"Are you alright?" Raoul gently placed his hand upon her leg.

"Yeah. I'm alright. Just had a bad…I just had a dream." She shook her head and slowly massaged her temples.

"Well, count to ten and close your eyes. I'm sure that will work." He returned his hand to his pillow and confusedly closed his eyes. What was wrong with her lately?

Christine shook her head in agreement and slowly closed her eyes.

Erik's hands trembled helplessly as he slowly raised them up to grasp his cup of tea that lay on the table. He stared into the dark liquid and swirled it around. He stood, tea in hand and walked over to his window. He pulled away the curtains and let rays of sunshine flood the room. The sun was just setting and Erik squinted at the house across the street.

"What did I do wrong?" he whispered to himself. He looked up at the front door that kept him away from his love. The door that was slammed in his face. The door that showed him what love truly was.

He slammed down the cup of tea and walked briskly toward his piano. His footsteps were hard and furious. He hurriedly sat down and immediately lowered his fingers to the keys. They danced darkly over the them. The music they played contained love, lust, anger, and betrayal.

His head swayed as he became hopelessly lost in his music. His mind no longer belonged to himself. No longer resided within himself. It was now a completely different thing, a distant observer. A thing that no longer controlled his body. No longer told him what he could and could not do. Now only his heart controlled his movements, his thoughts.

His lust filled song was interrupted by a harsh knock at his door. He abruptly stopped his playing and glanced toward the door. He slowly stood and edged towards the door. Slowly regaining consciousness, he reached for the gold door knob. His fingers tightly gripped the knob and he slowly turned it. The door opened to reveal Christine shivering and pleading to come in. Erik stood in horror at his love standing helplessly at his door.


	17. At times, you must be selfish

Erik's legs became weak with confusion and his stomach was churning. Christine stood, horrified, tears streaming down her face. It pained him to see her like this, obviously in pain, unable to express what she needed to.

"What are you doing here?" he murmured. She glanced down at her feet and gripped the shawl that lay on her shoulders. She glanced back up at Erik at shook her head.

"Come in." He stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. She nodded and stepped inside. She froze at the sight of chairs turned over, paper scattered like confetti across the room, and paintings crooked on the walls. Erik glanced over at her with a painful expression than stepped over to remove her shawl. She refused to let him take it and turned to face him.

"Erik…" She said painfully. Sadness flooded her eyes, causing her to look away from Erik. His eyes were too much for her to bear. The deep sea of green haunted her, and caused her to go weak at her knees. She stood hunched over, unable to stand straight. Her confidence was diminished to nothing before him.

He reached out to caress her shoulder, but she pulled away. He took back his arm and let it fall to his side. His heart began to ache with the pain she was enduring. He could she it drown her eyes, the raging fire of pain and anguish.

"Christine, what happened? Do you need to sit?" She nodded and he compassionately guided her to a red leather seat. She sat and looked down at the dark, hardwood floor. A tear fell from her eyes and smeared across the ground. She blinked away the next round and looked up at Erik, who was sitting next to her. He was leaning on one knee and looking straight at her. His eyes burned deep into her soul, causing every organ inside her to jump around.

She reached towards his face, gently touching his cheek. He flinched just as her silky hand touched his rough face. A shock split through his body, causing him to cower from her. She pulled him back, simply by looking at him. Her deep blue eyes and her luscious plump lips captured him and pulled him nearer.

Christine eased her arms around his shoulders, hunching over painfully so she could touch him. She lowered her face towards his, coming dangerously closer and closer. She didn't know what she was doing. Her mind was numb, completely lost to reality. She grasped his black shirt and pulled him nearer to herself. She slowly moved her lips closer to his, as if trying to decide whether what she was doing was right. Finally she plunged toward him. Their two lips met in unison. She passionately kissed him, pulling him closer every second. Erik gave the kiss back, not letting go. He slowly eased his arms around her waist. He glided his hands up to hold her chocolate curls.

His heart was passionately thumping in his ears, and his mind almost exploding with love. His legs were becoming weaker and weaker by the minute. He pulled her nearer and leant against her. She pulled away abruptly.

"Erik…I'm sorry. This is wrong." She turned from him and walked towards the door. Erik, shocked, grabbed her arm. She stopped and turned towards him.

"No, Christine. It is not wrong. You know it's not. It is right. It is the most right thing you have ever done. It is why you came. It is why you walked across the street. You knew it was right. Don't try to continue telling yourself its wrong." Tears began to swell in Christine's eyes once more. She knew everything he said was true, yet, she refused to believe it. She looked deeper into his eyes, searching for answers.

"Yes, Erik. It is right. That is why I must have come here. But it is wrong to cheat my husband. It is wrong to be selfish." She pulled her arm from his grasp and broke her stare. She glanced at his figure, his shoes, his pants, than his shirt. She knew what she wanted.

"Sometimes you must be selfish. Especially in the case of love, Christine."


	18. What is Love?

Christine hurriedly scurried across the abandoned street, away from the door of despair. Her mind raced with questions of Erik, Raoul, and herself. What was she to do? Was she to follow her heart? Or follow what was right and just? She rustled around in her jacket pocket for her house keys. She fumbled with them and pushed them towards the door. Just as she was about to reach it, the door swung open.

Raoul stood, a furious look on his face, staring at Christine. His eyebrows were turned down, in a look of rage. Christine, shocked, stared back at him.

"Where were you, Christine?" asked Raoul in a harsh tone. Christine felt a wave of worry wash over her. Her heart began to pound in fear and her legs were becoming weak.

"I was just, out. Why are you home so early?" She pushed herself through the door, past him. He shut the door gently than placed his head against it for a second than carefully lifted it.

"I thought I would surprise you. I thought you would be home, and maybe we could go and do something." His heart beat was softly throbbing into his temples. Whispering soft melodies into his ears, telling him secrets of hate, betrayal and deception. His heart urged him to confront Christine about Erik.

"Oh. Well, how thoughtful of you. Sorry, I was not home." She forced a smile on her face. Than took off her thick, black coat and laid it over the couch.

Raoul stood, questioning every word he spoke. Wondering if she was lying. His heart was telling him that she cheated. Cheated with the mysterious man across the street. He knew it was so. She didn't know he knew, but he did. He saw the looks she gave him; he saw the nervousness that flooded her body when they spoke of him. He knew how she longed to be with him, how she looked out their small, clear window over at his red, brick home.

"That is quite alright. Where were you? I mean, where did you go?" Raoul looked down at his feet, hoping to get an appropriate answer. Christine looked up at him. Her eyes grew soft, and her hands gentle. She slowly shuffled over to her nervous lover. Christine than reached for his hand, but he refused to take hers.

She pulled back, horrified, but refusing to show it. She than opened her mouth, unsure of what she was to say.

"I was, well, I…what is the matter, Raoul?" He than quickly looked up at her and studied her face. Studied it like a book, hoping to find some answers. Christine realized this, and looked away.

"Christine, you were at Erik's, weren't you? Tell me the truth." His eyes became stern.

Christine's heart jumped, almost out of her chest, when she heard his question. She outstretched her trembling hand to, once more, take his. He gave in, and than took it unwillingly.

"Yes. Raoul, I can't lie to you. Nor would I. Raoul, I have…Well; I have been taking singing lessons with Erik. Nothing more." She replied.

"Nothing more." She repeated, making sure he heard her. Raoul gripped her hand tighter, than let out a sigh of relief.

"Christine. You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. I thought, well, never mind." He let out a laugh, than reached toward her to pull her into an embrace.

Christine went limp in his arms, feeling as if she could stay there forever. Raoul had a sense of security that came with him. A sense that nothing could ever go wrong, as long as she stayed there, in his arms. She felt security, but nothing more. Maybe that is why she married him. For the security. Maybe she confused love, with security. What was love? Was security love? She wasn't sure. But what about the new feeling she felt, when she looked into Erik's eyes, the feeling as if nothing existed but them. Was that love? Or was this it? Feeling inevitable when she was buried deep into Raoul's arms? She pulled away from him, worrying herself with her thoughts, her deep, concerning thoughts.

"You thought what?" She said.

Raoul let another laugh escape his throat. Should he tell her? He slid his finger over her silky hand.

"I thought, well, nothing really." He stopped, than looked down at their intertwining hands.

"What, Raoul?" She said, stooping down to look at him in the face.

He looked up and deep into Christine's baby blue eyes.

"I thought you were cheating on me." Christine's heart stopped, her blood ran cold, and her body froze. Her eyes fell lifeless and unemotional.

'_He knows, he knows, what do I do? What do I do? '_She thought to herself.

She knew this day would come. The day were it all ended. When the train reached the end of its tracks. She wouldn't let it happen, no, she wouldn't let him know. She wouldn't let the pleasure train crash. She would save his heart, and hers, and reject her feelings. She would stay with him. Forever buried in his arms. She would never see Erik again.


	19. Glass Shatters, as Does Love

Chapter 19-Glass Shatters, as does love.

Erik slowly reached toward his piano, painfully gripping his fingers around the golden candle stick. The wax slowly trickled down the smooth surface, inching its way towards his rough, slender hands. He ignored the pain of the burning liquid; he was no longer hurt by pain. He was emotionless, heartless. Ever since Christine had left him standing alone, surrounded by darkness, his own door shut in his face, he was unable to feel anything. He could feel no joy, no pleasure, no love. His heart was empty; he chose to remove her forever from it.

It had been weeks since he saw her luscious, brown curls, her sweet, intoxicating, pale, angelic face. After that day, that cold, rainy, day, Erik refused to sing. He refused to write or play. His piano was abandoned. It sat, dust-covered, in the corner of his living room. Scores no longer were scattered like confetti across his room, the house was no longer filled with music. It was only filled with darkness, cold darkness. He would sit, hour after hour, staring out his window, over at her blue home. He would wish he was Raoul. Wish he could grip her tightly within his arms and never let her go. He wished he would open his dry, crust-filled eyes in the morning and see her sleeping body next to him. He wished he could walk into his kitchen and see her preparing breakfast tea, smiling compassionately over at him.

Whenever he caught himself thinking of her, he would immediately attempt to shake her from his memory. He would fail, time after time. Eventually he would return to his daydream, unable to shake her from his mind. He slowly glanced over at his piano, his old love. It used to be his release, his outlet. Now, it only reminded him of her. Of her angelic voice, which pierced his heart with tiny, sharp pins. He was unable to play or sing without her. Without her sitting next to him, gently placing her slender hand on his knee.

His temples began to throb with uncontrollable pain. He quickly walked into his room, which was draped with red velvet curtains. He set down the melting candle and sat gently onto his bed. He raised his hands to massage his temples. He mechanically stared at the wall in front of him. It was littered with various drawings of her, songs about her, and paintings, of her. There was no use trying to forget her. She was forever buried in his memory. Her face was permanently branded in his head. He quickly stood, walked over to the collaged wall. His fury grew, he was losing all control. He could feel the fire ignite within his soul, within his heart.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he traced the pencil sketch of her. He followed the lines of her face, of her hair, of her eyes. He moved his gaze over to the painting. It was perfectly done, looking exactly like her. He painted it immediately after he saw her the first time, at the picnic. Ever since that dreaded day his heart had fully belonged to her. She had taken it from him. Now, he was bound to get it back.

He moved back to the drawings, raised his other hand up to grip the picture. He slid his fingers under it and tore it down. He moved over to the other drawings and songs. He tore them all down, hoping it would release his anger. He than moved over to the painting. He plunged his fist into the glass, shattering it. Blood-stained shards fell helplessly to the ground. He felt no pain, nothing. He gripped the frame and tore it off the wall, bringing the nails that hold it in place with it. He threw it across the room. As it flew, it hit a red and gold, glass lamp. They both fell to the ground and shattered.

He was finished with her. He no longer wanted to love her. He wanted her out of his mind. Out of his life forever, yet he wanted her to stay. He wanted that day they met to never have happened. He now wanted revenge.


	20. Confusion

Chapter 20-Confusion

Christine shuffled her way through the dark, abandoned hallways of her home, tracing the walls with her thin, frail fingers. Boxes, still piled high, remained isolated in the corners. She had decided to never go back to him, to never think of him, but here she walked, thinking only of him. What was she to do? Punish herself for every thought she accidentally conjured up? No, that was impossible. Her fingers glided across the banister, easily sliding down it. Her feet, one after the other, fell step after step. She reached the bottom of the stair case, stepping hard onto the cold tile. The room was flooded in darkness; she was hardly able to see anything. She preferred it that way. She didn't desire to see anything. Objects meant nothing anymore. All joy from material things was gone, gone and filled with her desire for love.

Yes, she loved Raoul, but wasn't sure in what way. As a lover? As a childhood friend? She knew one thing, she loved Erik. She loved him with all her heart and desired to be with him. She longed for his touch, his sweet embrace. She caught herself dreaming about him, about his voice. She gently walked over to the giant window at the front of the house. There were no curtains, she hadn't unpacked them yet. She had no energy to. Decorating, at this point, felt useless. She slowly raised her trembling hand up to the window. She felt the coldness beneath it, freezing the window. She watched as a white shadow formed the outline of her tiny hand. It traveled in and out of the creases of her fingers, then down around the rest of her palm.

She looked up, as if in a daze. Tears filled her eyes and her temples tightened. She glanced over at the house across the street. Its red bricks and white shutters beckoned to her, urging her emotions. A wet stream traveled down her cheek, but the bitter cold of the room froze it. As her heart beat louder into the drum of her ear, her breathing became heavy and slow.

"Christine, are you alright? How come you haven't come to bed?" Raoul's voice echoed throughout the empty room. Christine's hand dropped heavily to her side. She lowered her head and attempted to draw back her tears. She turned to face her husband, and then carefully shuffled over to his arms. She drew him close, as if afraid of something.

"I was just-thinking. Come, let's go now. I am tired." She slid her hand down his arm and took hold of his hand. She pulled him along, up the stairs and into their bedroom. Raoul stopped, turned Christine around and placed his hands on her shoulders. His eyes drew her glance over to him.

"What is the matter, my dear? You have tears in your eyes." He compassionately raised his hand to wipe away the wet droplets from her pale cheeks. At that moment he realized how she had changed. How now, her perfect skin was rough and how black circles made their way below her eyes. Her posture had worsened and her hair was frizzed, as if it had not been taken care of for days.

"Nothing, Raoul. I think I'm getting an allergy, that's all. No need to worry." She shook free from his grasp and turned towards the bed. She cautiously walked over and drew back the blankets. She straightened the pillows and let her body fall heavily to the bed.

"Christine, you know you can tell me anything, right?" She shook her head. Her eyes were shut and she was buried deep within the blankets.

"Lately, you have been seeming- well, distant." Raoul looked down at his hands, which nervously intermingled with each other. Christine let out a grave sigh.

"Raoul, come to bed. You are beginning to worry _me._ All you can seem to talk about lately is how I look horrible and am acting weird. I am tired Raoul, come to bed." She drew back the blankets on his side of the bed. Raoul shook his head reassuringly and quickly walked over to the bed.

He laid down next to Christine and turned to face her back. She had already fallen asleep and he watched how her stomach rose and fell with her breathing. He slid his hand up to wrap one of her curls around his finger. He slowly closed his eyes, reassuring himself that she was fine. Despite his optimistic thoughts, deep down in his heart he knew she was far from fine.


	21. Curiosity Killed the Love Birds

Chapter 21-Curiousity Killed the Love Birds

"_Erik, I love you so much." Christine wrapped her arm around Erik's bare chest, gently bringing the bedspread up over her naked breasts. _

_"I love you too." She felt his heart speed up through his chest. A smile formed on her lips and she buried her face deep within his arm. "Christine?" His voice was deep, masculine, and held her within a trance. "Yes, my love?" She said sweetly. Erik sat up, leant his back against the dark, wooden backboard of the bed. He brought Christine up with him and buried his hand within her curls, not wishing for it to be found. He smelt her perfume, smelling of sweet, spring lilacs. "Face me." He said turning her face to his. Now, _her _heart was beating like an uncontrollable engine. "Marry me." He commanded. She froze, and her legs and arms became dead limbs. Her mind traveled outside her body, and it felt she was watching this on a movie, or reading it in a book. _

_Quickly she uncovered her body and stood. She gathered her clothes, and put them on. She looked back, tears blurring her vision. Erik sat with his face placed deep within his hands, weeping. Christine shuffled over to him and placed her hand on his back. He looked up, wetness streaming down his face, stopping at the edges of his mask, and he fell to his knees on the floor. _

_"You must marry me, Christine." He whispered. Christine tilted her head, and fell to her knees as well. "You must love me." He spat vigorously. "You must!" He repeated. _

Christine slid her eyes open, pain shot through her head, causing her to close them once more. She had gotten used to the dreams and rose with no trouble. She glanced at the clock. It was late to be rising and she got dressed, and began walking downstairs. She glanced out the large window in her living room, and saw _his_ house. With its red brick, and red roses peeking through the sight of his windows. She was drawn by an uncontrollable force to the window, then out her front door, and to the street.

While her heart seemed dead and lifeless, it seemed to be beating out of her chest. Maybe she no longer had a heart. Could that be so? Could she have been robbed of it? Could Erik have invaded that too while he invaded her mind?

Suddenly, without realizing it, she appeared at Erik's front door, hand falling from its knocking. She thought about leaving, turning around and casually walking away. But something kept her there. Something glued her to the spot which she was. The door opened and revealed Erik, with perfectly slicked back hair and boxer shorts, as usual. This time, something was different, out of the ordinary. He was bleeding from his knuckles. And the blood dripped slowly to the floor and Christine watched it. She watched it drip, drip, drip. All she could hear was the drip. All she could she was him, standing with fury in his deep, green eyes.

"What do you want?" He spat, anger flooding his every movement. Christine's throat was shot, unable to produce any sound. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She tried again, and failed. She dropped her head.

"Well?" He urged on, searching for a way to hurt her. Christine raised her head, she couldn't stand him. Couldn't stand the way he looked at her, with such compassion and love. Even when anger boiled in his heart, she saw that love within him. She couldn't stand the way he stood, so determined and strong. She hated him, despised him, yet couldn't live without him. Couldn't live without his love.

"You." She whispered. A sudden shock came over Erik's body, which showed on his face. He parted his lips, still attempting to be angry with her. "Excuse me?" He said, straightening his form.

"Erik, I want you. I love you. I can't live without you." She edged closer to him, staring into his eyes. Erik stood frozen, unbelieving of what she just said. "_Am I dreaming?" _He thought. She saw his discomfort and continued on,

"Being without you, I have realized my fault. My life is empty, Erik. My voice is lifeless and without emotion because _you _are my emotion. You are the life I want." Still edging closer to him, they were now inside his home, and Erik's back slammed against a wall. Christine raised her hand to caress his face. She lined his mask with her fingers. "And you are the life I choose." She said, pressing her lips against his.

All anger flooded from his body. All regret released. He pushed back, finally able to release the words he wished he always could. Christine's hand dug into the back of his head, pushing them closer. Their bodies pressed together and Christine released him, drawing back. She finally realized what she wanted, what she deserved. She didn't need the perfect life, with the perfect husband. No, she did need the perfect husband. And Erik was that perfect husband. He was the perfect life. He just wore a mask, that was all. _The mask. _She thought. She had wondered day after day why he wore it.

Now is when she would find out. She knew it was the wrong time. They were deep within their confession of love, pressing harder against each other with every passing moment. It was the wrong time. Despite this, her curiosity grew, began to consume her. It ran through her veins, pumped through her heart. She was distracted, and before she could reason, she was reaching toward the mask. It fell to the floor, as did she.

All she saw was Erik, with a face of a monster. No, it wasn't him. It could not have been him. He was not a monster. He was not what was under that mask. "Damn you!" He screamed, grabbing at his face. A plastered look of fear spread across Christine. Erik fell to his knees, turned away from her, refusing to let her look at him. His heart ached with an unexplainable pain, but he ignored it, for he did not want her to see him like this. She looked down at the mask in her lap, and brushed her finger across it. "A monster is not what I am." She whispered to herself. She reached out towards Erik, handing him the mask. He took it and replaced it on his face. "Leave." He said with sadness consuming his voice. "Leave!" he repeated.

Christine turned towards the door, and ran to her house. That face, the face which flashed through her mind, was a monster. It couldn't be him, it just couldn't. Tears flooded her eyes, blurring her vision and causing her to fall to her knees in her front lawn. She placed her tear-streamed face within her palms and cried. "A monster you are not." She whispered.


	22. I will repair this insanity

Christine sat, buried in the damp corner of her room, drowning in her salty tears. Her hands quivered in her lap, and her head fell heavily to the floor. Some unknown strength within he kept her rocking to and fro, seeming as if she were insane. Her once beautiful, luscious curls were now dry, frizzled, dead extensions of the wandering head that sat upon her hunched over shoulders. Her beautiful ocean like eyes had only tears to keep them filled with water, otherwise they were orbs of lifeless day. Under them, black raccoon circles insisted on accompanying those lifeless eyes. The skin that caused mouths to once drop with its beauty was reduced to rough, sandpaper like softness. The intellectual, wandering mind was forcefully turned into a spiritless chunk of worthless matter. All it was capable of was staring, and conjuring up that haunting face that kept her up at night, searching for the man, the man that couldn't be the monster that she envisioned in her mind.

Her husband sat on the very edge of their bed, staring at his wife's meltdown, unwilling, unable to make any movement. His appearance had also changed due to his wife's condition. Night after night, she would rise from bed, when she should have been sleeping, to weep and stare into the mirror. _"My Angel." _She would say. She would repeat the phrase, time after time, as if it had somehow changed. Her cries would grow hysterical, sometimes piercing through his ears, causing him to flinch with pain. He would wake her from her slumber, asking, questioning her. Saying, _"You had a bad dream, my dear, please, go back to sleep." _He would try to calm and sooth her. She would refuse and stand, walk to the mirror in their bathroom and continue with her please and cries. _"My Angel." Her voice was becoming hoarse and scratched. He gave up, accepting the fact she was generally insane. What had become of my perfect life, my perfect home, my perfect wife?_ He thought, scratching his head.

"Christine, please, come to bed." His last plea was hopeless. Christine raised her trembling, slender hands up to graze the mirror in front of her. "My Angel, come back." She said mechanically. There was a sort of sorrow and emptiness filling her words, behind them emotion ran wild, yet lack in a whole. Suddenly she broke out in wild screams. She frantically yelled at the mirror, pounding on the glass with her fists. Tears coursed rapidly down her cheeks, burning her flesh as they passed. "My Angel!" She screamed. "Come back! Don't let him get me! Don't let that monster get me!" She repeatedly pounded on the mirror, weakly enough not to harm it.

Raoul's face seemed distant. He had no desire any longer to halt these episodes, they were all too frequent to disperse them entirely. He began talking to her in a soft, soothing tone, still attempting to calm her. She refused to stop, wildly rubbing her hands up and down the wall. "Are you in the walls, my angel?? Are you in there?" Her voice was miserable, causing Raoul pain with ever passing words. "You sing from the walls, as do angels, but I cannot find you! My angel, I cannot find you!"

Erik, alike Christine was miserable. As hours passed through the day, he sat in his room sulking, weeping into his rough hands. "My love!" he would say, with his heart aching. "Why did you have to be so curious, my love, why?" This was the question that burned him, branded him with the ultimate pain. _"Why did you have to be so curious?" _He thought, the words racing through his mind.

He no longer sand, no longer composed, for it all reminded him of her. Reminded him of her face, her yes, her voice. The voice of a sweet, innocent child, cursing him with sin.

Glass lay shattered throughout his home, littering the floor with danger. He had broken them, shattered them to pieces, in hopes the monster behind the mask would disappear. _The monster. _A name that haunted him, plagued his dreams with despair. The one name that brought him to the edge of his breaking point. The name that caused unbelievable sorrow, caused his life to crash down upon him in a matter of seconds. Now his one, true love though that of him, of his face. She saw his flaw, as well as his beauty. _She saw his beauty. _Yes, his beauty. _There is still hope. _He thought to himself, still hope for love, for her.

Suddenly he drew his head upwards, out of his palms, and stared at the broken glass before him. Did this glass represent his life? His love? Broken, shattered, destroyed. "With the proper mending." He whispered. His knees dropped to the ground, and his hands grabbed quickly at the shattered pieces. He gathered them into a pile, the spread them out, trying to find the right combination of mending. He would repair the mirror, the glass, his love.


	23. Anger can consume the soul

"Christine, you must stop this madness!" Raoul was beyond breaking point as he stood, walked over to his frantic wife and took hold of her. Her fury grew, pounding on the mirror harder and harder with ever passing moment. "I mustn't stop, Raoul, he is in there! That monster, my angel is in there!" Raoul's eyes rolled, showing his frustration.

"Who is this angel, Christine? Who is he?" Christine's fists came to a halt, stopping in their position, no longer pounding. Her body slowly turned, eyes blank, yet tears streaming down her face.

"My Angel of Music. Well, he must be my father. My father, Raoul!" The rehearsed, mechanic sound of her voice frightened Raoul, sending him back towards the wall. This was the first time he heard her say _Angel of Music. _

"Music! Is this what this is all about? Music, Christine?" He gripped her shoulder firmly, urging her to stop her fidgeting. She looked down, away from his compassionate gaze.

"No, Raoul. This is not about music. This is about love." She whispered, with anger boiling deep within her. "About everything. Yes, you gave me love, Raoul. Security, compassion, but nothing deeper. But, my angel, he-" She swallowed, unbelieving of what she was saying. She urged herself to stop, to close her mouth and go back to pounding on the mirror, but something inside her, deep within her soul kept her words flowing out unwillingly.

"He gave me love, undeniable, inescapable love." Raoul's face grew dark, furious with disbelief. His mind told him to hurt her, strangle her for what had said, yet his heart commanded him to plea for her love.

"What does this _Angel of Music_ have that I do not? What can he give you that I cannot?" Christine's heart ached, and her heart throbbed. She parted her dry, crusted lips, willing herself to speak. " Through music he made my soul soar, Raoul. He accepted my love for music, and did not grow jealous of that love. In fact, he shared it. He willed my love, fed it. He fed that fire of burning desire coal from his heart, giving me skills I never knew I would, or rather could possess." Her soulnessness disappeared completely. Suddenly everything about her glowed, illuminated soul. Perhaps the smile on her face is what lightened up her darkness.

"I will give you love, Christine, music, whatever you heart desires! Just please, Christine, Love me." He realized his begging and stiffened his back, as if to regain his strength. Through is shattered heart he wanted to seem strong, unable to be hurt. Christine just stood, staring with that same blank stare, shaking her head disappointedly. "You cannot give that to me, Raoul." She started toward him, grazing her grail gingers against his arm. " I love you, Raoul. Remember that" With that as her closing remark, she walked back into the bedroom, pulled out a suitcase and began haphazardly tossing clothes into it.

"Who is your Angel, Christine? Tell me his name." Tears did not fall, but could be heard through his weak, fragile voice. "Just please tell me his name." He repeated, lowering his head heavily to blink away tears. Christine continued packing, not responding. Suddenly rage aroused in him, all of a sudden controlling his body, his voice, his emotion. He pressed his hands harshly on her shoulders, holding her still, not allowing her to pack anymore clothes. "Tell me his name, Christine.!" His voice turned vulgar and inhuman. She shook her head repeatedly, tears flowing freely down her rough skin, leaving streams of water behind them. He shook her, harder with every strenuous nod. Her heart was breaking, her body becoming weak. "Erik." She whispered, hoping Raoul would not hear her. "What did you say? Who?" His disbelieving and stunned voice took hold. He released her, and began backing away from her. She collapsed on the floor, tears now consuming her presence. "Erik." She said slightly louder. Raoul also collapsed to the floor, weak with pain. His head throbbed. "No." he whispered. "No."

"I'm sorry, Raoul." She was halted by his harsh words. "Get out." He said. This phrase cut through her like a knife, slicing her heart into a thousand pieces. He raised his head and revealed his tear filled eyes, full of anger and despair. "Get out!" He yelled gesturing toward the door. "Raoul." She whispered in one last attempt to sooth his pain. The worthless try was ended with another yell accompanied with another gesture towards the door. She picked up her suitcase and headed out the door.


	24. Words of Love and Tears of Despair

She loved him, of course she did. Raoul was her childhood sweetheart, littering her with love. Love she, indeed, did not deserve. For she did not love him as he loved her. She did not realize this until now. Now when she sit, alone, suitcases loyally beside her on the curb in front of her home. What had she done? Was she really planning on returning to Erik? Would he even take her back?

She reached out towards his house, as if attempting to grasp it within her palm. "I love you, Erik. I want you." She found herself whispering. He filled her with such desire, desire unknown to her. Raoul did not give her that desire, that freedom. She was a bird, finally set free from her cage while with Erik. She flew before him, circling him time after time. Should she return to her owner? Or should she explore the new? All was new now. She was free, able to choose as she pleased. She found herself grazing the suitcase beside her, with trembling hands, tracing the stitches.

She silently rose from the curb, the cold, night air fiercely pushing against her face, and began walking, step after step, towards Erik's red, brick home. Her mind was no longer in control of her body, no longer commanded what she did. Now, her heart had taken control, completely guiding her towards what she wanted.

Raoul gazed at her from his bedroom window, tears streaming heavily down his face. Something about this was terribly wrong. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Was this all one giant nightmare? Could he pinch himself and wake up? Would Christine be there, lying silently next to him? Would her deep, long breaths coax him back to sleep? No, this was real. This was what was happening. But it seemed so wrong to him. Why had she called him her angel?

Erik sat at his piano, sulking, drowning within his tears of sorrow. Despair was gripping strongly at his heart. He lowered his hands to the keys before him, closing his eyes heavily. Would music heal his wounds as they always did before? Majestically his fingers glided across the white, ivory keys. A entrancing melody projected from the instrument, and he, filled with sorrow, parted his lips and began to sing.

"_Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation._

_Darkness stirs, and wakes imagination_

_Silently the senses, abandon their defenses" _

The words were silent at first, barely above a whisper. But as his emotions grew, and his awareness of all that surrounded him dispersed, they grew louder. His voice filled the room, leaving not even an inch for anything else.

"Slowly, gently, Night unfurls its splendor 

_Grasp it, sense it_

_Tremulous and tender_

_Turn your face away, from the garish light of day" _

Nothing, no one could release him now. From the world of music, the world that drew him in, closer and closer to happiness. Finally, he was returning to his former self, completely consumed within his music. Not caring about anything, anyone else. Nothing else mattered, as long as music was there, comforting him, caressing him. It would sooth him to sleep, kiss him lovingly on the forehead. Music would never deceive him, leave him drowning within his tears.

"_Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world!_

_Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before!_

_Let your soul take you where you long to be!_

_Only then, can you belong to me."_

His words drew off into a distance. His mind returned, and took hold. His fingers stopped playing and his head fell heavily to his hands. There was no forgetting, no releasing the memories, the images. No releasing her. She was too beautiful, too lovely. He loved her too much.

Suddenly a knock came to the door, and he slowly, painfully raised his head. He drew back his tears, and shook away his sorrow and began inching towards the door. He reached for the handle, unsure if he should speak to anyone in the state he was in. This love was taking hold of him, cursing him with horror. He rested his hand heavily upon the door handle, shaking his head silently. He no longer wished to talk, no longer wished to be a part of the world. He wanted to seclude himself, hide from the world and all its hatred. He dropped his hand to his side, and dropped to the floor, tears making their way down his cheeks, down the outline of his mask.

Christine stood, shivering in the cold, night air, waiting for Erik's door to open. Waiting for him to appear in the doorway, and his warm body lovingly pull her into an embrace. Waiting for the pain to stop, waiting for all regret to leave her at once. She did not want to live this way any more. She wanted the dreams to stop, wanted the tug in her heart to be gone.

Minutes passed, and she still stood before the door, cursing herself for waiting so long. Why hadn't she just accepted her feelings sooner? Raoul, that is why. She knew what she was doing. She knew what her father would have thought, that he would have not approved. He would have scorned her for deceiving her husband like this. For him, marriage was permanent, a promise never to be broken. Christine raised her hands to her face, and found frozen tears making their way down her icy cheeks.

Raoul could take it no longer, he could not stand by and let the woman he loved walk out on him. He hurriedly grabbed his coat, ran down the stairs and out into the street. Christine stood, shivering uncontrollably at Erik's door. Her hand was placed upon her cheek, and her other at her side. "Christine." He whispered. He took a step forward, making his way farther across the street.

"Christine!" he shouted. She hadn't heard him, and still stood, shivering even more now.

"Christine!" he repeated, now louder. She quickly turned, and Raoul saw tears flying wildly down her face. Erik's door swung open and he seemed horrified to see Christine at his door. Christine's head snapped back to his door. "Christine." He whispered.

"No! Christine!" Raoul shouted, once more. Now, he was running towards her. He lunged at her, grasping her hand. Erik stood horrified, then suddenly snapping out of his amazed trance, he shoved Raoul off of her. Then he pulled her into his house and closed the door. He locked it, then turned around to face her. There she stood, his love, a smile forming on her lips.


	25. Hearts shatter and can never be repaired

The door slammed heavily behind him. He didn't look at her for the longest time, though she wished he had. He just rested his forehead upon the shut door, as if exhausted, tired from the events that just took place. Then, with one, swift movement he raised his head, and turned to face her. Tears streamed down his face, as well as a dry river behind them. He'd been crying. _Been. _How had she not noticed, in those small seconds she had witnessed his face before?

Suddenly, wild, crazy pounds came from the opposite side of the door. They were hard, furious. "Christine!" Came a voice from the other side. It was obviously Raoul, and Christine bowed her head in embarrassment. She silently slid her eyes shut, imagining her old life, her life before Erik. It had been bliss, perfect in every aspect. But as she looked back on it, she realized the lie she was living. The eventless days, the false emotions. They now teased her with there fiction. Erik showed her that. He made her glimpse back on all those days. The days when she lovingly rested in Raoul's arms, mistaking security for love.

"Christine!" The knocks dispersed. She heard Raoul's hands slid down the door, as well as his heavy body and collapse on the front porch. A sigh released itself from his chest, and she could almost feel his desperation. Erik just stood there, watching her go through this torture. He seemed stunned, unable to move in his disbelief. What was the next step? Would he take her in his arms? Tell her everything would be okay? It wouldn't, he knew that was true. Life would never be the same; it would never be the fairy tale ending most dreamed of.

"Christine, please. Open the door." His pleas were becoming pathetic. She was growing disgusted with them, but longed to hear them none-the-less. Christine raised her head, just as his desperate calls ended. She saw Erik standing before the door, silently looking at her. The tears had stopped, and a smile came in their place.

"My love, you have returned." His voice was no longer powerful; it was full of vurnability, of weakness. "You had decided." Christine found herself unwillingly walking into his arms. What power did he have over her? As he wrapped his arms around her, he felt his heart begin to speed, and his legs grow weak.

"Christine!" Raoul's last plea had surprising power. The pounding returned, and this time was accompanied by kicks. But as they dyed out, Christine remained in Erik's arms, not saying a word. She was unable to; love and confusion had muted her.

Next, a window shattered, glass spewing across the room. All Christine could do was scream. Wild, hysterical screams, piercing the fragile ears of Erik, who in fear ran to the window. Raoul was making his way in! Quickly, Erik grabbed the nearest chair and threw it at him. Raoul was sent backwards by the force, but continued to make his way through the window.

"Erik! Stop, don't hurt him!" Christine was surprised by these words, and so was Erik, who stopped immediately in his footsteps. Raoul hastily continued through the window and scurried over to his wife, compassionately wrapping his arms around her.

"Christine-" Erik began, whispering silently to himself. He lovingly reached out his hand, as if beckoning her. She, confused, looked down. It had never been like this, so complicated and strange. Life had never presented such challenge, such decision. Marry Raoul; be happy, live with pleasure. That is how it had always been. Now, it had taken a turn, she had reached a fork in the road. Erik, the man who made her feel worth living. He made her feel real, made her feel important, like the only thing that mattered. He opened up a world of music and layed it at her feet, motioning to her to take it forever. _If you take the music, you take me. We could live together for an eternity. _And there was Raoul, doing anything and everything so she would feel happy. He treated her like a queen, giving her everything her heart desired. Everyone would approve of Raoul, but not of Erik. Yes, life had taken an unusual turn, indeed.

"Erik, I am sorry." Her voice drifted away, tears filling them in an instant. "We cannot go on living like this. Hiding in the shadows." These words hit Erik with a strange force, and he was drove back into a nearby chair. She inched over to him and placed her thin, fragile hand upon his face.

"Our love is real, I know, but I must do what is right." She wiped a lone tear that streamed down the edge of his mask. "And what is right, is to stay with my husband, through better or for worse. You must understand."

"Yes, Christine, I understand." He choked, standing up harshly. He traveled over to Raoul, took him in his grasp and pulled him into the kitchen. When there, he grabbed a nearby knife and placed it savagely against his throat.

"I understand that this man is keeping you from me. And believe me, Christine, I will do whatever I can to have you. I love you. And if that means killing the one man standing in my way of betrothing you, so be it!" Christine let out a whimper and inched closer to them. Erik's voice had returned to normal, power consuming every word.

"No. Erik you don't understand. He is not what is standing in the way of us. It is me, would you kill me? I am the one who doesn't want to be with you." Her words were harsh, but necessary. Tears now flowed freely down Erik's face, but he made no attempt to wipe them.

"I would never hurt you, Christine. But it seems you would hurt me. You said you loved me, why have you lied!" His voice toned down, the same vurnabity returning once more. "I have been hurt too many times, Christine, why must you continue the deed!"

Christine's heart ached for him. She loved him, but must cut him away. She must let him go to save him from all that is horrible. People would talk about them, claiming him a monster for driving her away from her husband. Christine knew this was true and decided to let him leave her, or rather her leave him. Also, she knew Raoul would never give up. Day after day, he would return to the porch, pounding and screaming upon the door. Hope would drive him to insanity, and they would never be happy. All would be lost because of her silly love.

"Erik, I love you, you know I do. Just leave! Or rather we will leave. I cannot betray Raoul, it is morally wrong. And I am the one standing in the way of our love, not him. Let him go." With that Erik dropped the knife as well as Raoul and both tumbled to the floor. Christine immediately scurried over to her collapsed husband and embraced him.

Life was different after that night. Erik had left town, said to have gone back to Paris were he had become a famous composer. He had never married, nor fallen in love again. He had become most famous for his published work called, "Think of Me". One that he had sent to Christine's mailbox. Upon the day she received it, all past memories flooded to her, just as her emotional dam had broken. It caused her to fall deep into a whole of despair that she never, truly was able to dig herself out of.

The story is over, my friends, and I thank you for reading it. I would love for you to read some of my more recent works, them including:

**_A Diary of a Vampire_**

Twisted every way Life of Luciana and the Love of a Vampire 

And also, coming soon:

_**The Magician's Labyrinth **_

_**A sequel to, 'Till Death do we Part**_


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